


Endless Cry

by Jenshih_Blue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Pre-Canon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Athens, Ohio two years before Dean Winchester went in search of his brother Sam at Stanford, he discovered the one thing he never thought he’d ever find-love. Despite every thing he told himself and his loyalty to his father suddenly he had a glimmer of hope in a heart he’d tried so hard to hide. Sometimes hope is all you have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endless Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place Pre-Series, vague references to Season 1 Ep. Route 666. This story was first posted to my live journal under my previous writing name Foxhunt2blue on 02-04-06. Re-edited and posted to AO3 07-21-12.

_Don’t you feel the sweet heaven in our endless cry…_

‘One Last Time’

Recorded by H.I.M.

 

Fall in Athens, Ohio was a time when the world was at the crux of change. The grass was still the rich dark green of late summer, yet the leaves were beginning to change to the vivid palette of autumn—scarlet, gold, and even hints of burnt orange. A month before the students of Ohio State University had returned to their classes, a life so far removed from what Dean Winchester lived it was like traveling from earth to the dark side of the moon.

He sat inside a local coffee shop at the edge of the campus, a little place that screamed college students, and fun times, but Dean was there for anything but fun. He’d received a call from his dad about a job here and for some odd reason this had been where his dad had asked him to meet him. Staring out the window, he watched kids around his age laughing, hurrying to classes, and others heading for the dorms; boys with their arms around their girls and girls in giggling groups gossiping or checking out the boys. Across the way, was a small park where groups gathered beneath the scarlet sugar maples on blankets studying or playing touch football. He could hear their laughter even through the glass and a part of his mind drifted to his brother Sam.

Dean would never admit it to anyone, least of all his father, but he missed Sam. The day he’d left for Stanford Dean refused to watch him go because he couldn’t watch someone else he loved leave him. He had received one letter from Sam after he left, but that had been it and he couldn’t really blame Sam for not writing again because he’d never written back. This wasn’t Sam’s life and he hadn’t wanted it to be Sam’s life, he was proud his little brother had finally stood up to their father and walked away.

"Afternoon, I’m Cassie and I’ll be your waitress today. What can I get you?"

"Coffee…black," Dean mumbled as he turned from the window and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

His gaze settled on the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her skin was smooth and silky reminding him of milk chocolate and her eyes large and expressive were so dark they seemed to swallow the light. She smiled and the light reflected back from the depths of those dark eyes had him pinned like a deer in the headlights. Lips curled in amusement as she reached up flipping a lose curl out of her eyes.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was soft and sent a shiver straight down his spine, "Sir?"

"Dean…" he choked out, "my name is Dean."

"Well, then, Dean—are you okay?"

He blinked trying to shake off the feeling he’d just stepped into something he had no desire to step in. _What the hell is wrong with you?_ He wondered. He’d never been this stupid around women before, but something about this woman hit him like a lightning bolt out of the sky. He shifted in the booth, jeans suddenly way too tight.

Flashing his patented _I’m so sexy_ grin Dean drummed his fingers against the tabletop. "Yeah, I’m okay. Just have a lot on my mind."

She lifted one eyebrow and shifted the tray she carried on her hip. His gaze traveled down to that soft curve noting a sliver of smooth skin between the waist of her hip hugging jeans and the soft cotton tee she was wore. Nervous he licked his lips, glanced up again into her eyes, and cleared his throat.

"Do you have a menu?" She nodded toward the end of the table against the window. A flush crept into his cheeks as he spotted the laminated card. "Sorry."

"No need to be sorry." Her smile widened as he grabbed the menu. "So I guess you’re new. I’ve never seen you here before."

Glancing up through his lashes, he cleared his throat again. "Just arrived in town today, I’m meeting my dad here."

With a nod, she flipped her tray back up and began filling out a ticket on her pad. "So one black coffee and what looks good?"

Dean glared at the menu angry with himself for acting like such a girl. He could feel the heat of embarrassment burn his cheeks as the thought crossed his mind to say _you do_ , but for some reason he knew she wouldn’t be amused. "Double cheeseburger with a side of fries." He glanced up and flashed another smile, this one softer. "Well done on the burger."

"Coming right up…Dean." she smiled and turned away tone honey sweet as she winked over her shoulder, disappearing into the crowd.

"Dumb…dumb…dumb…" he grumbled beneath his breath, slapping himself in the forehead with the menu.

***

"Dean you have to focus."

Glancing up from where he was measuring out salt in loads for the shotguns Dean blinked. "What?"

John frowned at his oldest son and let out a sign. "What’s on your mind, son?"

"Nothing," Dean averted his eyes back to his work.

"I need you at the top of your game, Dean. You know how dangerous this is." John’s eyes narrowed gaze locked on Dean’s bowed head. "I can’t go into this without being able to trust you."

Dean inhaled sharp, through his nose and stood up pushing the chair back. Without a word, he moved to the door and grabbed his jacket.

"Dean?" John was on his feet and across the room, grabbing his son’s arm.

Shrugging him off, Dean spun on his father, eyes filled with anger. "Let go of me!" He snapped.

John stepped back, brows drawing together in a deep frown. "What the hell has got into you?"

"Like you fucking care!" Spitting out the words, he turned back to the door. "Maybe I’m just tired of all this. Sammy had the right idea, but I’m not as strong as he is. If I were I’d walk away from this poor excuse for a fucking life." He stormed out into the night, door slamming behind him.

John Winchester stared at the spot where Dean had been and sighed, shoulders slumping. Every since Sam had left Dean had changed and he’d tried his damnedest to ignore the obvious, but it did no good. He glanced, heavenward and whispered, voice cracking with emotion he’d tried to suppress for far too long.

"Dear God I’ve tried so hard, Mary. I have baby, but they need you and you’re not here. They would have been better off if I’d been the one that died that night."

***

Dean had no idea why he was angry or why he’d walked out on his dad. All he did know was that he was so tired of being different. He wanted a home, a life—a real life like other guys his age had. He was so damn tired of one-night stands, crap hotel rooms, and miles of black top. In his heart, the one he’d tried so hard to keep hidden, he wanted to wake up and find this was all some big cosmic joke and his mom hadn’t died. That he and Sammy had enjoyed a real childhood and now he was maybe, just maybe, living a life somewhere that was worth living.

The icy crispness in the night air seeped into his bones forcing old injuries to ache and remind him no matter how much he wished nothing would change. This was his life and he had to accept it no matter what he really wanted or what he thought he wanted. Stuffing his bare hands into his jacket pockets, collar shifted up around his ears he trudged down the sidewalk. Swinging his foot out, he kicked an empty soda can down the smooth concrete, thoughts drifting to his brother.

He had to admit he was a bit jealous of Sammy. He seemed to have an inner strength in him Dean couldn’t find, not when it came to standing up to their father. Two years Sammy had been gone and on occasion Dean would swing by Stanford and check up on him. He never spoke to him, simply watched from the shadows, hoping with all his heart Sammy would be able to have a life.

The last time he’d been to Stanford he’d spotted Sam sitting out on the fire escape of the apartment he shared with his girlfriend. He didn’t even know the girl’s name, but she was pretty, girl next door pretty, and she reminded him a bit of their mom. At least what he could remember of their mom. She was petite and had long silky blonde hair she kept pulled up most of the time. He’d hidden in the shadows across the street watching Sam, his long legs dangling over the edge, his girlfriend sitting with her back to him, both of them drinking long necks and staring up at the night sky. He’d watched as she shifted, laying her head in Sam’s lap and Sam in turn had lifted a hand stroking her hair that hung lose around her face.

He could see in their body language how much they cared for each other. Maybe that’s why after he left he’d started having doubts about their mission. Sammy seemed so happy, he’d even caught soft laughter on the warm summer breeze, and suddenly he’d felt as if there was an empty hole inside him.

Glancing up from his game of kick-the-can, he grinned when he saw a pool hall up ahead. A beer would be good right now, he thought, and besides his pocket cash was running low so maybe he could scam a couple of games out of the locals.

***

This place was no different from most of the bars he’d been in dark wood and a back room with full size pool tables. The only difference was the clientele—fraternity guys in football jerseys or crisp button downs and sorority girls dressed for a Friday night of fun.

Walking up to the bar, Dean showed his ID and ordered a beer, checking out the room as he waited for the bartender to return. Beer in hand and mark in sight he sauntered into the back room and leaned against the jukebox that was blaring Bon Jovi. He watched the group of buzzed frat boys laughing and shooting pool, gaze drifting to the ladies every so often as he sipped his beer. A beautiful red head strolled across the room flipping a strand of hair over her shoulder, cream sweater hugging full breasts, and flashed Dean a flirtatious smile as she leaned across the jukebox. Her sapphire eyes flicked from the listings, to Dean, and back again as she leaned forward further, tantalizing him with a flash of smooth cleavage. Dean grinned and took a swig of beer as her gaze drifted back to him.

"So handsome…" she purred, "what should I play?"

Quirking a brow at her he took another swig of his beer and grinned. "Well I’m partial to the classics."

Her gloss slicked lips pursed in a perfect pout, "Classics?"

"Oh, you know," he leaned in close, "Mega-Death…Blue Oyster Cult…"

"Meghan, is this jerk bothering you?"

Dean glanced up to see a steroid-pumped guy at least three inches taller and almost as broad as he was tall. "Didn’t hear her complaining—did you?" He snorted as he took another drink of his beer.

"Oh, what do we have here guys? I think we got a smart ass on our hands."

"Better than a dumb ass," Dean casually dropped the empty bottle in a nearby trashcan.

The next thing Dean knew he was in the middle of a brawl and the odds were not in his favor. As an upper cut hit his jaw, he wondered when he’d learn to keep his big mouth shut.

***

All hell had broken loose in the back room and Cassie Robinson wasn’t surprised in the least. It was Friday night and ‘Balls & Beer’ always had at least one brawl every Friday night. The question was if the cops were going to show or if the bouncers would be able to break it up on their own. The answer was always a 50/50 chance. The violence didn’t shock her in the least. She was a country girl and used to the way the boys acted back in Cape Girardeau. Cape was a college town as well and on any given Friday night, the boys would be out raising hell at the bars. The more prissy girls were always shocked unless of course they happened to be the ones that started the brawl.

Cheers filled the room as Brueger, one of the bouncers, began to wade his way into the mass of bodies. Cassie rolled her eyes and took a swig of her beer as the cheers grew louder and more obnoxious. The second bouncer Teag waded in and a few seconds later the brawl was broken up. Brueger headed for the front door with his fist wrapped in the back of Mark Jensen’s football jersey. Mark was the quarterback on the football team and it didn’t surprise Cassie the oaf was involved. All it ever took was some guy giving his girlfriend Meghan a look. Problem was Meghan was a slut and she flashed her shit all over the campus. Girl got some kind of perverse pleasure from watching some poor schmuck get his ass kicked.

Who the schmuck was this time shocked Cassie though.

Teag came wading through with his fist wrapped in the schmuck's jacket—the guy from the coffee house. Dean, she thought, and he looked like he’d taken the brunt of the fight. She excused herself and headed for the door where Teag and Brueger had disappeared. She had no idea why she was doing what she was doing, but she knew that there had to be one.

***

Dean’s head was spinning. He knew, without a doubt, John was going to be pissed when he showed back up at the motel looking like this. He’d be lucky if his dad didn’t beat his ass again for being so damned stupid.

Dropping down on the sidewalk, he spit blood and reached up to prod his split lip. A soft hiss escaped him followed by a groan at the sharp pain in his ribs. If they weren’t broken, they sure in the hell were bruised or cracked. He sighed, head coming to rest on his drawn up knees. Maybe he had a death wish, he thought.

"You okay?"

He lifted his head and turned, hissing in pain as his eyes focused on a familiar face, "Cassie, right?"

Lifting a hand, her fingertips ghosted over Dean’s swollen jaw. “Shit." She whispered. "Jensen and his buddies really worked you over."

Dean stared into her eyes and saw something in their depths he’d never seen in anyone’s eyes before—compassion. He tried to smile, but all he managed was another hiss of pain as his jaw protested, "Looks worse than it actually is."

A look of disbelief flickered in her eyes. "I’m real sure cowboy."

"What you don’t believe me?" He winced again, one hand going to his aching ribs.

Holding out her hand Cassie smiled, "Nope. And I think what you need right now is a helping hand."

Dean smiled this time despite the ache in his jaw and reached out, fingers curling around hers. The night was looking up, he thought, as Cassie pulled him to his feet and guided him to her car.

***

Somehow, Cassie had managed to get him to her car and despite his protests that he was fine and she could drop him off at his motel she refused. He eyed her warily through the one eye that wasn’t completely swollen shut, tongue darting out every few seconds to lick the blood away from his abused lip. He’d only said one thing to her during the ride and she found it odd, but for some reason she’d agreed—no hospital. She’d flashed him a smile and told him no worries. Apparently, one of her roommates was an EMT and he’d know best. Dean’s reaction had been nervous and a bit skeptical, but he’d said no more.

Fifteen minutes later she was helping him into her apartment building and sent prayers of thanks to the all mighty that her building had a service elevator. Dean wasn’t a huge guy, but he wasn’t dainty and petite. He stood six feet at least and she was guessing from what she could see that he was nothing but solid muscle. He might be smaller than Mark, but she what saw in his eyes told her he was tougher.

"So…" she drawled, “what did you do to piss Mark off?" She hit the third floor button as she watched him slump against the wall.

He glanced up, tight lines of pain around his eyes and mouth. "Guess he didn’t like me looking at his woman’s tits." Dean grumbled.

Cassie chuckled as the elevator came to a stop. "So, Meghan was up to her old tricks again." She paused, studying Dean’s face and for the first time, the thought he was quite handsome crossed her mind. "From the looks of Mark you gave as good as you got though."

"Well, thank you ma’am." Dean mimed tipping a cowboy hat and grinned, flinching in pain. "Damn, but my dad’s going to be pissed."

The elevator came to a stop with a jerk. Anything Cassie had been about to say forgotten as Dean turned and stumbled out of the elevator.

***

Dean was sitting on the worn second hand sofa in Cassie’s living room barefoot and wearing nothing, but his boxers as her roommate Eric Dresden carefully wrapped his ribs with a bandage. He hissed as the bandage tightened and he glared at Eric from the corner of his eye. Gritting his teeth he tried not to show how damn much it hurt, but then he had no one to blame, but himself.

Cassie appeared in the kitchen doorway with a six-pack of Coke, an ice pack, and a sympathetic smile as she saw Dean wince. "Your clothes are in the washer." She crossed the room and settled on the sofa next to Dean. Sitting the soda on the scarred coffee table, she reached out and cupped Dean’s chin in her palm. "Let’s get some ice on that eye." Carefully she urged him to turn his head and their eyes met as she gently pressed the ice pack to the side of Dean’s face.

He flinched. "That’s fucking cold!"

"Thus the name ‘ice pack’." Cassie laughed, and then glanced over at Eric. "So what’s the verdict doc? Will he live?"

Eric rolled his eyes. "He’s lucky—this time. They were bruised, but you need to take it easy for a few days." He finished bandaging Dean’s ribs and stood dusting his hands off with a grin. Grabbing one of the sodas and his keys off the table, he turned to Cassie. "I got to go hot chocolate running the midnight shift tonight."

Smiling Cassie waved with her free hand. "You be careful out there Hawkeye."

Dean nodded at Eric as best he could and grumbled. "Thanks man."

"No prob." Eric chuckled and then he was gone, the door closing behind him.

Dean suddenly felt uncomfortable sitting there in his boxers with Cassie icing his face and for the life of him, he didn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if he was shy or anything, he was far from it. He’d always been a flirt; his dad would tease him on occasion about him flirting from the moment he could talk. He didn’t want to think about his dad right now though. In that direction, bad thoughts lay and he had no desire to think about them. Feeling exhausted and a bit guilty for the way he’d stormed out of the hotel room he sighed then shifted so he could see Cassie through his one good eye.

"Thanks." His voice was a tight and he knew she knew he was embarrassed although it was difficult to see the blush beneath the lovely palette of bruises that decorated his face now.

She smiled, eyes sparkling. "You’re welcome, Dean."

Silence descended around them and Dean found himself looking anywhere, but in those beautiful, bottomless eyes. He’d never felt this way around a woman before and it made him wonder if maybe Mark Jensen had knocked his brain loose. He could feel the ice still cold, but not shockingly so anymore, against the heated swelling of his eye and jaw, and it seemed that he needed to say something other than thanks.

"Will you stay the night?"

Jerked from his meandering thoughts, Dean let out a groan as his ribs protested at the sudden movement. "What?"

"Look," Cassie lowered her eyes to a loose thread along the hole in the knee of her jeans, "it’s damn late, and you’re exhausted. I can drive you back to the motel in the morning. I don’t have any classes tomorrow and I don’t have to be to work until five."

Nibbling at the inside of his lip Dean focused on Cassie’s fingers as they tugged on that simple, loose thread. He took a deep breath and he reached up, his hand folding over hers where it pressed the ice pack to his jaw. "You’ve done enough." He whispered.

Cassie glanced up and at that moment he saw a heat in her eyes, that wasn’t just anger, but lust too. He’d never seen a fire so bright aimed at him before and suddenly he realized he wanted this woman as he’d never wanted any other woman. And if he read that look right she wanted him just as much.

"Don’t be stupid!" She snapped. "You’re in no shape to go anywhere right now."

"Hey!" Dean’s eyes flashed with annoyance. "I’ll have you know I’m not stupid lady! Just because I got in a fight over some broad’s tits don’t mean a damn…”

Suddenly he found himself flat on his back, ribs screaming bloody murder, and Cassie taking his mouth as if she owned it lock, stock, and barrel. The ice pack slid down the side of his face and to his shoulder as he moaned against her mouth.

"What the hell?"

She pulled back and what he saw in her eyes brokered no argument. "Shut up Dean…" she hissed and dove back in, tongue flicking along his swollen lip, "let me make you feel good."

He wasn’t sure if he’d groaned because of his ribs or because every drop of blood had rushed from his brain due south.

***

Her hands were gentle and yet possessive as she stroked down along his arms, mapping every inch of skin and muscle. Lips parted her tongue darted out flicking along his lips demanding he open up and open up he did. Dean wasn’t used to being the prey, he was used to being the hunter, but the part of his brain that still worked told him tonight he was the prey. Parting his lips, he felt Cassie’s tongue slip in to tease along his teeth and gums. He groaned again and opened his mouth more allowing her tongue to curl inward and around his own.

Her hands were on his chest now, her fingertips teasing along the smooth skin and circling his nipples, drawing another groan out of him. He could feel his cock harden more and throb between his thighs and a part of him screamed. Leave now, the voices inside his head demanded, leave before this goes too far. She pulled back her face flushed and lips wet and swollen and Dean knew the answer was no to that voice. He wanted to have this woman possess him.

"Let’s go somewhere a bit more comfortable." She whispered her head ducking down, and her tongue flicking against his nipple.

"God…" he hissed, “yes."

Getting to her feet, she held out her hand and he accepted it as she pulled him to his feet. He groaned in pain as his bruised ribs protested and Cassie reached out with her free hand stroking his bruised and swollen face. "I want you to know I don’t do this all the time." Her voice was raspy with need as she met his gaze.

"Rescue strays?" He flashed a lopsided grin at her, his eyes sparkling.

Her smile widened, body relaxing, and headed for the hall, fingers tightening around his hand.

***

Later Dean would wonder why he’d given in so easily despite the fact every ounce of his being screamed danger. Maybe it was because he’d been thinking of how happy Sammy was or that he was just so damn tired of being alone. In Cassie’s eyes, he’d found something he’d never hoped to find. Whatever was there was more than just lust or a need for release. There was compassion and a need to sooth his pain.

Dean Winchester had never given much thought to fate until that second.

She’d led him into her room, closing the door behind them. Leading him to the platform bed, she helped him lower his abused body to the mattress covered with soft flannel sheets and a down filled comforter, then as he watched, she stripped off her clothes. The only light in the room was from the moonlight that shone through the skylight above her bed and it gave her cocoa skin a golden sheen making her even more beautiful than before.

He remembered his dad showing him a book once of Egyptian Gods and Goddesses. An artist, from the twenties, had done the paintings in the book. She’d been a powerful sorceress and a follower of the ancients of Egypt and her interpretations were more modern and realistic than Dean had ever seen again. One particular one came to mind—the Goddess Isis—as he watched Cassie move towards the bed.

"You’re so fucking beautiful." He whispered watching the moonlight glint in the silky curls surrounding her face in a shadowy halo.

She pressed a finger to her lips and smiled as she crawled onto the bed. Once she was there, she straddled his hips rubbing against him slowly. Moaning, his hips lifted up, as he dug his fingers into the softness of the comforter, and back arched up off the bed. The heat of her was exquisite even through the thin cotton of his boxers and he wanted her so bad, he thought he would go mad.

Leaning down she licked the curve of his ear, breasts rubbing against his bandaged chest, as she purred against his skin. "Even like this you’re gorgeous. Let me make you feel like I do."

Those were the only words she spoke for the rest of night.

***

That first night was the most incredible sex Dean had ever had. So, many of the women he’d been with expected little or they always thought of themselves as the most important person in the bed. Cassie was nothing like either.

With lips, teeth, and tongue she worshipped every inch of his body. She trailed tiny love bites down along his throat and to the curve of his clavicle. Her lips grazed along the curve of bone beneath his skin and her tongue darted out painting delicate circles in the hollows of flesh.

Beneath her, Dean growled in his throat, arms lifting, and his hands stroking down her naked spine. Her skin was smooth like cream beneath his rough fingertips and her hair tickled his skin as she worked her way down lower. She paused to nip and tease at his nipples alternating between both until he was whimpering with need and then she trailed gentle kisses down along the center of his wrapped chest.

Once she reached his navel, she glanced up at him and smiled, her tongue darting out to delve into the dark indenture. He tried not to squirm, but it felt so damn good. Without any warning, her fingers curled into the elastic waist of his boxers and she pulled them down so quick his aching erection snapped back against his belly. Tossing them to the floor, she crawled back up eyes almost feral in the moonlight.

By now, his chest heaved with each breath causing his ribs to ache, but it was worth it. Well, worth it, to have this beautiful woman with him in a bed soft as clouds. His eyes widened as she curled delicate fingers around the base of his cock and mouth swallowing him whole.

"Cassie!" His hips lifted off the bed, heels digging into the mattress.

She hummed as she began bobbing her head, tongue curling around his pulsing flesh, as her hand slipped down to cradle his balls. He cried out again as she rolled and squeezed them. He’d never had a woman willingly, and joyfully it seemed by the soft moans that escaped her, offer him this. Her fingers released him and drifted down teasing along the delicate skin beneath them and he began panting as she applied pressure in just the right spot. His head thrashed against the pillows as she began sucking harder and he felt her fingers begin to circle back.

"God…" he moaned, eyes fluttering at being touched in such an intimate spot. "Cassie, shit I’m…"

Just when he thought it could get no better, he felt one of her fingers sink into his body and curl up to apply pressure. His entire body stiffened and he cried out, an animal sound in the silent room, as his orgasm washed over him in wave after wave of intense shocks. He didn’t even have time to warn her as he filled her mouth and he was shocked when she swallowed hard causing spots to explode behind his clenched eyelids.

***

When he came back to himself, Cassie’s warm body curled around him, comforter pulled up around them, she was gently kissing his sweat-slicked neck. He turned his head and met her smile.

"Damn." He groaned. "Cassie I’m…I never…shit what about?"

She pressed one finger to his lips. "Later. Now get some sleep." Head resting on his chest, her fingers played against his damp skin.

He lifted one shaking hand and began stroking his fingers through her hair and within moments, he drifted off into a deep sleep.

***

A few hours later, he woke from a nightmare screaming and Cassie pulled him into her arms stroking his sweaty hair. She peppered tiny kisses over his bruised face and mumbled soft nonsense words to him until he calmed.

She sighed, breath warm as she whispered into his hair. "You want to talk about it?"

Dean closed his eyes and when he opened his mouth to tell her no, something entirely different escaped. "My mom…" his voice sounded so tiny in the darkness.

"What happened?" Her fingers kept stroking through his hair, his head resting on her chest.

"She…she died in a fire."

"How old were you?" Cassie voice was like a salve on his broken heart.

He felt tears well in his eyes and he couldn’t push them back as they began to trickle down his face. "I was four. My…my dad handed me my little brother and he…he told me to get out of the house. I didn’t know what he was doing. I just remember the dark, the smoke and I ran as fast as I could."

She didn’t speak as she reached out and turned his tear stained face to her. There was sadness in and compassion in her eyes and he swallowed hard as sobs tried to push their way out of his tight throat.

"I should have…I could have…" he choked out.

She hushed him, fingers wiping at his tears. "No, you couldn’t have, Dean. You were a baby. You did what your dad told you and you saved your little brother."

Suddenly he couldn’t keep the pain in anymore and the floodgates opened. She pulled him closer kissing the top of his head and stroking his back until finally he cried himself to sleep once more.

***

The next morning was tough for Dean. He’d never opened up to anyone before about the night he and Sammy lost their mom. In fact, he had no idea why he’d told Cassie, but she didn’t bring it up. They’d made love in the morning light and then shared a shower in silence. Afterward she’d re-wrapped his ribs and fixed breakfast blueberry pancakes, sausage links, and scrambled eggs. They ate in silence, but this time the silence was a comfortable one and then she’d drove him back to the motel.

He’d kissed her and promised he’d call. For once Dean hadn’t lied.

John never said anything to him about that night. He’d simply met him at the hotel door with a cup of coffee and a faint smile. Dean had no desire to think about what he’d said to his father because for once he wasn’t angry with him. So, they’d sat on the stoop outside the hotel sipping the coffee and watching the sunrise higher in the sky.

***

The job that had brought them here turned out to be tougher and to take longer than John had planned on. Demonic possessions of places were sometimes more difficult than possessions of people simply because you couldn’t exactly talk to the land and figure it out. The house they were working on stood a few miles outside Athens and they spent almost every day there or in the library doing research. Other days Dean would turn on the charm and inquire around the neighborhood about any historic information the older residents might have.

At the end of each day John and Dean would return to their hotel room and take turns using the shower, then organize information or clean and prep their weapons. Not once in those first four weeks did John ask his son where he went when he left around seven every night. A part of him wanted to, but he’d never seen Dean this relaxed or happy, not even as a child had he been like this. It gave John hope and at the same time, it scared him.

As for Dean, he had no worries. The work seemed easier to deal with now that he had Cassie in his life. She never asked him what kind of work he did though on occasion he’d see a flicker of curiosity in her expression. He’d meet her at the coffee shop or her apartment and they’d spend time together. It wasn’t just about sex and Dean was beginning to understand why Sammy was so happy back in Stanford. They’d spend some evenings watching movies, curled up on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and some beers. Other nights they’d just go for walks in town and Cassie would show him all the things that she enjoyed about Athens. There were nights she told him about her hometown and how her mom and dad were proud of her. Neither of them had attended college and to have their daughter get this far was a blessing. Sometimes she’d tell him how much her parents had fought for what they had in a small town like Cape.

The days and nights passed in a blur and Dean was falling hard. Not that he’d admit it to himself or to her because despite their relationship blooming there was still one thing he’d refused to say. Cassie didn’t seem to mind at first and as the days went by, she would make off-handed remarks about her man being an international spy. Dean would laugh and tell her he and his father did research. It wasn’t quite a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either and Cassie deserved to know the truth.

***

"Son, we need to talk."

Dean glanced up from cleaning and oiling the shotguns, the whistle dying on his lips. He saw the worry in his father’s eyes and he knew this was the conversation he’d been dreading. "What is it?" He questioned attention drifting back to the gun in his lap.

Pulling up a chair John sat and cleared his throat. "I know you’ve been seeing a girl in town."

"So?" Dean raised a brow as he began to reassemble the gun. "I see girls in a lot of towns, never lied about it, and it never bothered you before. If it’s the whole birth control thing, I’m always safe dad. Go Trojans." He laughed, but the look in his dad’s eyes wasn’t one of amusement.

"It never bothered me before because you were never in love with them."

Dean snorted. "What the hell are you talking about, Dad? You’re kidding right?"

John ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his tired eyes. "I wish I was, Dean. You have that same look in your eyes I had with your mother."

"Dad…" Dean started to protest, but his father lifted a hand to silence him.

"You know what this life is like, Dean. It’s harsh, demanding, but it’s also dangerous. Are you ready to pull someone into this?" John studied his son’s face with an intensity he usually reserved for the monsters. "If you’re not, then you’re going to have to let her go."

Dean ran his fingers through his hair chewing his lower lip. "Look, we’re just having fun and even if it was more what do you think? Do you think I’d stay doing this work?"

Shaking his head, John laughed the sound of it causing Dean to cringe, "I know you, and this is who you are. You’re just like me and what we do does not mix well with what other people expect. Hell, most people don’t believe and sometimes it’s better than that way. If she isn’t ready to accept this part of you, then you can’t make a go of it."

"Damn it!" Dean stood slamming the gun onto the table. "What is it about me that you seem to think can’t walk away from this? Sammy walked away!"

"You’re not Sam."

Dean’s eyes flashed with fury. "That’s right I’m not Sam! He couldn’t deal with this and still have what he wanted! I can!"

"What happens when one of the monsters comes after her?" John’s voice softened.

Face gone pale Dean’s eyes shone with fear for a moment. "I’ll protect her." His voice came out taunt and edged with anger.

"Like I protected your mother?"

Turning away Dean sucked in a deep breath. "That’s not fair. You weren’t a hunter when that happened. That’s why you became one."

"Do you think I could have saved her if I had been?"

"Yes." Dean turned eyes filled with desperation to believe what he was saying.

"Then you’re a fool." John walked away leaving Dean alone and shaken.

***

That night the demon came back with a vengeance. The herbs that they’d sprinkled had only pissed it off more. The couple that lived there had called John in terror just as Dean was getting ready to go see Cassie. He’d decided he was going to tell Cassie the truth, but with this development, he needed to put it off.

In the car on the way, Dean pulled out his cell and dialed Cassie’s number. Unfortunately, it went straight to her voice mail and he sighed. He hated leaving messages, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

"Hey, Cassie, something came up with work so I’m going to have to cancel. I’m sorry, baby. I’ll call you later." Flipping the phone shut, he hit the gas hard.

***

"Fools!!!"

The roar of the demon’s voice echoed through the high-ceiling room as Dean crouched down low behind the sofa, glancing toward John waiting for a signal. He pumped a round into his shotgun and nodded. He hated it when the fuckers wouldn’t stay down and he’d rather be across town in Cassie’s arms sharing Chinese.

Unfortunately, this particular one had turned out to be far more than a common demon. John had discovered far too late in the game that what they were dealing with was a demonic angel by the name of Ashodeus. This one had a nasty habit of killing off newlyweds while they slept. He was the demon-angel of wanton lust, which explained the number of rapes and murders that had taken place on this property over the past two centuries.

According to they’re discovery in the final pages of an old journal, some idiot named Cyrus Madison had decided to call his nasty ass up when his beloved had left him for another man shortly before their wedding. Broken hearts caused far more trouble than most people would have thought. Cyrus had gotten his wish that his bride to be punished for her betrayal. The demon had taken great pleasure in killing her bridegroom the night of their wedding, but Cyrus hadn’t counted on one thing. Once he’d released the fucker, he couldn’t shove him back in the box.

John nodded and Dean nodded back. Tucking and rolling he aimed and let fly a load of salt mixed with crushed Eucharist wafers. The load hit the demon square in the chest causing him to roar in anger and pain, clawed fingers digging at his sizzling chest, as huge wings flexed stirring up a putrid wind. Dean lifted his arm to his face and covered his nose, his eyes watering.

"Damn that fucking stinks worse than a skunk with gas."

John tried hard not to laugh at the look on Dean’s face. That pretty much was what it smelled like, he thought, as he repeated Dean’s earlier move. The demon let out another roar, its glowing scarlet eyes rolling in its head, as it sniffed the air. Suddenly the demon burst out laughing as it lowered its head, sniffing again. John glanced over and Dean shrugged as he pumped another round into his gun.

"I smell sweetness…" the demon rumbled, "…one that makes me hunger."

"What the hell is he talking about?" Dean hissed through clenched teeth as he glanced around the room. "I don’t smell a damned thing."

John frowned as he watched the demon shift towards Dean. "Fuck. Dean, you have to get out of here."

"What are you talking about?" Dean demanded as the demon came closer with a rumbling growl.

"He knows what I know." With a quick movement, the demon reached over the table and grabbed Dean, clawed hand curling around his skull.

Dean let out a scream as his body lifted off the ground and he pulled the trigger. The blast sent the demon into a frenzied screaming fit and he flung Dean across the room. Hitting the floor Dean cried out as the demon turned eyes narrowing. He tried to scuttle back across the floor and pump another round, but he dropped the shell. As he reached for it, the demon leaned in grabbing the front of his jacket and lifted him up in the air shaking him as the gun hit the floor.

"Dean!" John was on his feet and around the sofa, pumping a load, and letting it fly into the demon’s back. "Let my son go you son of a bitch!"

Screeching the demon turned Dean pulled tight to his chest, "Puny fucking human!" It roared, its breath hitting John in a wave of hot, putrid air. "You dare tell me what to do? The last human that tried to control me paid dearly." It lifted its free hand and pressed one dagger sharp claw to Dean’s throat.

"Shoot the son of bitch!" Dean screamed. "Shoot it!"

"I’ll hit you, Dean!"

"Oh, how sweet," the demon purred in Dean’s ear, "The demon or the boy?" Its gaze drifted to John where he stood gun aimed and eyes fear-bright. "I know you John Winchester. You have become the bane of my kind’s existence. You let your grief and fury burn bright yet you are still unwilling to sacrifice your son. This is what makes human’s weak…love." His mouth curled in a maniacal smile, rows of dagger sharp teeth glistening bright in its mouth. "And this one is filled with it. He loves the girl with a passion that burns bright. Its sweetness is like honey on my tongue." mouth widening the demon’s acidic saliva dripped onto Dean’s shoulder, burning through the material, and into his flesh.

Dean screamed and writhed in the demon’s grip smell of his own burning flesh filling his nose. The thing knew about Cassie, but how he had no idea and suddenly he understood what his father had been trying to tell him. His fingers clawed at the demon as its claw punctured the skin of his neck. Warm blood trickled down his throat as he kicked out at the thing that held him in a death grip. The demon leaned in licking Dean’s neck and he screamed in pain again as its saliva burnt his skin.

"Sweet and perfect." the demon growled. "I wonder would she welcome me into her bed as quickly as she did you?"

"You bastard!" Dean roared. "You leave her alone!"

With a roar, the demon lifted Dean by his throat with one hand and laughed as he fought to breathe, face turning purple, "Or what little man?"

From the corner of his eye, Dean saw his father scattering the contents of a bag and he could smell the coppery tang of blood in the air. He had to hang on, he thought, as his vision began to darken at the corners.

"I am immortal. I could snap your skinny neck right now and then fly to your beloved. I bet her thighs are plump and her sex juicy isn’t it?" The demon laughed harder as Dean struggled more. "I would make her feel so good." He ran his clawed fingers down the front of Dean’s shirt, shredding the material and tearing his skin. Lifting his hand, he licked Dean’s blood from his fingers. "Oh, yes…" he purred, "I can taste her in your blood."

Dean’s eyes began to roll back in his head as the lack of oxygen became too much. He thought about Cassie and he wondered if his dad would tell her what happened to him if he didn’t survive. As the darkness began to close in around him, he heard his father’s voice loud and firm.

"Ashodeus, I speak your true name as was told in the Apocrypal legends! He who is the demon angel of wanton lust and drunkenness! Taker of innocence and destroyer of all things pure!"

The demon roared tossing Dean away like a rag doll. Dean gasped for air as he hit the floor, landing near his gun. With shaking hands he lifted it and pumped a round into the chamber and as he watched through blurry eyes, his father began to pace around the circle, walking counter clockwise.

"Ashodeus, he who fled to Egypt from the angel Raphael’s protection of Tobias!" as John paced the circle he left a trail of rock salt behind him, encircling the edge of the circle of blood and diced organs he’d already drawn around the demon, "Ashodeus, he who was defeated by an angel of our Lord! Ashodeus, who was bound by the light and thrown into the pits of Hell! I call upon the light and protection of Raphael to bind you within this circle!"

Dean watched with wide eyes as his father sealed the circle and the salt began to glow with a bluish-white light. He was always amazed no matter how many times they did this that it worked and he took another deep breath, throat aching, and gun aimed at the growling demon that appeared frozen to the spot.

"Let Raphael’s light trap you and let the stench of your own evil drive you back from where you came." John lit a match and smiled at the demon whose eyes had widened. He dropped the match inside the circle of salt and the blood and organs caught fire, flames moving in a quick flash. "Be gone from this plane, Ashodeus!"

As the circle of fire sealed shut, the demon began to writhe and scream, its fingers clawing at the air filled with smoke. Dean watched in horror as the thing began to twist in on its own body. With a suddenness that sent him diving for cover, it exploded with a wailing scream.

A few minutes passed as Dean lay on the floor, head covered, and body shaking with the adrenaline burst. He was afraid to look, but he lifted his head at the sound of footsteps. The room was filled with smoke and from the smoke John walked with a cough, and then knelt at his son’s side.

"You okay, Dean?" A look of concern flickered in his father’s eyes. He nodded throat too raw to speak, as his dad pulled aside his jacket to inspect the bruising around his throat. "We need to get some ice on that."

He looked up into his father’s eyes with a pleading expression and John sighed. Nodding he helped Dean to his feet and walked him to the door and into the cool, fresh air of the autumn night.

"Can you make it?"

Dean nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah…" he answered in a harsh rasp. He turned to the driveway and headed for his car. As he reached out to grab the door handle, he heard his father behind him.

"I promise you, Dean…it’s gone…she’s safe."

His shoulders slumped for a moment and then he turned back to his dad. In his eyes John could read a thousand different emotions and he knew in his heart Dean would either come back with another pair of hands for the fight or he’d come back a broken man. No matter which way he did come back John was prepared. Unfortunately, he knew that it would be the latter unless this woman was something far more special than he imagined. Standing on the stoop, he watched as Dean backed out of the driveway and onto the road the Impala disappearing into the night.

"God speed, son." He whispered as he headed back into the house to clean up.

***

Cassie had been expecting a phone call not what she got. What she got terrified her beyond words.

The doorbell rang and she was about to curse Eric out for losing his keys again, when she opened the door to see Dean battered and covered with blood. He started to take a step forward and his knees buckled beneath him. Diving forward she caught him in her arms and struggled to get him to the sofa. Once he was on the sofa, she went back, locking the door, and returned kneeling at his feet her eyes filled with fear and tears.

"Jesus." She whispered. "Dean…" she cupped his face as she ran a thumb along his bruised temple, "can you hear me?"

He nodded as her gaze moved from his bruised face to the blood on his neck. She noted the bruises around his throat and the knife wounds to his chest. The tears began to spill down her cheeks as she pressed her lips in a gentle kiss on his cheek and got to her feet.

"You stay here. I’ll go get the first-aid kit."

Dean watched her leave and for a moment, he hoped that she would understand. He loved her and he’d been ready to tell her that tonight, but after the demon, he couldn’t ask her to come with him. He hadn’t believed what the demon had said about love making humans weak. His father’s love had made his sons stronger than anyone could imagine, but their enemies could use that same love as a weapon. Dean was a realist, if nothing else. Glancing up he saw Cassie standing in the door her face streaked with tears and he knew she needed to hear the truth, but he hoped she’d understand that she couldn’t come with him if he had to leave.

***

He woke the next morning pale light warming his face and for a moment Dean wasn’t sure where he was, and then it all came back to him; showdown with the demon, his terrified drive to Cassie’s apartment and then the look in her eyes as she tended his wounds. Turning his head his gaze came to rest on Cassie laying next to him on top of the covers, one hand tucked beneath her head and the other resting on his chest where she’d bandaged the ragged wounds. He swallowed hard and reached out brushing her hair back from her face with trembling fingers. She shifted and moaned, and then her eyes drifted open.

"Dean?" She kissed his fingertips as they grazed her lips. "How’re you feeling?"

"Better." His voice came out a painful rasp.

She slipped from the bed adjusting her tee shirt. "I’ll go get you some tea with honey and lemon. It’ll help your throat." She headed for the door.

"Cassie?"

Stopping in the doorway, she turned back to face Dean. "Yes?"

"You know we have to talk?" Dean searched her eyes for something that might help him face what was to come, but she seemed to have locked any emotion away.

"Yes, I do." She turned away and disappeared into the hall, leaving Dean to get dressed.

***

Twenty minutes later Dean was lowering himself carefully on the sofa in the living room as every muscle and joint protested. He lifted one hand to scratch absentmindedly at the gauze that covered the cut and burns on his neck. Moments like this he wished he smoked or something, so he’d have something to do with his hands.

He glanced up as Cassie walked into the living room carrying a tray with a teapot, mugs, honey, and a bowl of lemons. She quietly sat the tray down and then stepped around the coffee table setting down next to Dean she began pouring tea and adding honey, attention focused on her task. When she had the tea the way she wanted she turned to Dean handing him a mug and then took the other for herself. She leaned back into the cushions and a soft sigh slipped from her lips as she stared into the steaming mug.

"Cassie?"

She glanced up at Dean, her dark eyes filled with a desperate sadness. "Who did this to you, Dean? Was it another bar fight? Because if it was I think, I can handle that. I won’t be happy, but I can handle it."

"Well, that’s just it Cassie. I wasn’t in a bar fight and I need you to keep an open---"

His cell chose that moment to ring and he sighed. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled it out, flipping it open. "Look, Cassie I have to take this it’s my dad."

She nodded, sipping her tea as Dean got to his feet, and slowly walked across the room, his teeth gritted. His dad really needed to work on his timing, he thought, as he hit talk.

_"Dean?"_

"Yeah."

_"We have another job."_

"Where?"

_"Chicago."_

"Look, Dad I need to…"

_"I know. Talk to her, but I’m asking you to keep the rule."_

Dean sighed and rubbed the knot that was forming between his eyes. "You can’t be serious. I care about her…she deserves to know the truth."

_"She won’t accept the truth, Dean, and you know I’m right. I don’t want you to get hurt, son. I know you love her whether you want to admit it or not."_

"Dad…please I need some time, okay?"

_"Okay. We need to leave at 3:00 pm."_

"Sure, Dad." he flipped the phone shut and turned back to where Cassie sat quietly sipping her tea. "Let’s talk."

***

"Cassie? Come on, talk to me."

Dean’s chest felt like it was going to cave in and his heart was going to stop beating if she didn’t say something soon. He’d spent an hour explaining to Cassie what had happened the previous night and what he did. She’d sat quietly through the entire thing. No questions and no reactions and that worried him more than anything did. He’d expected screaming, disbelief, and even shock, but not this.

"Cassie?" His voice came out tight and painful. "Please."

She held up a hand and shook her head. "Don’t, Dean."

"What? What do you want me to say?" He wrapped his arms around his chest trying to fend off the cold that seemed to waft off her in waves.

She stood and began to pace the floor, arms folded over her breasts. "I don’t think you need to say one more thing." Stopping she turned to face him, "Demons? Ghosts? What do you think I am, Dean Winchester? Stupid?"

"No, I don’t. That’s why I told you the truth."

Cassie’s eyes widened, "The truth, Dean? Do you want to know what I think the truth is? I think you’re fucking nuts!"

He stood, crossing the room, and grabbed her arms. "I’m not nuts, Cassie! I swear to you I’m telling you the truth! Remember the fire I told you about? The fire that killed my mother?"

Some of the anger faded in her eyes. "Yes, the nightmare the first night we were together. You said you were four."

"Yes," Dean’s eyes went wide with desperation. "That night was the defining moment. When I got old enough to understand, my dad told me what happened that night. It wasn’t just a fire. There was a demonic force…it pinned my mother to the ceiling…" tears welled in his eyes, “it pinned her to the fucking ceiling and burned her alive."

Cassie shook her head, tears dripping down her face. "Oh, God, Dean…don’t you understand what’s going on? Don’t you understand that your father needs help? He did this to you. He’s made you believe that something other than a common fire took your mother."

"Something did, Cassie!" Dean shook her. "I’ve seen things…things other people refuse to see. Please believe me."

"I can’t." She pulled away turning her back.

"Can’t or won’t, Cassie?"

"It’s over, Dean. Take your things and leave."

"Cassie, please don’t do this." Dean’s voice cracked. "I love you."

Turning back, she smiled sadly at him. "I know, Dean…but it’s done. Good-bye." She walked away, heading to the kitchen, and left Dean standing alone.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. He stood there staring out the window and let her words sink in and the deeper they sank the more painful it was. Taking a deep breath, he scrubbed at the tears on his face and he turned walking out of the apartment.

In that minute, Dean swore to himself, he would never open up to any one again.

***

Standing outside the convenience store Dean opened his phone and checked his messages. He glanced over his shoulder at Sam and shook his head with a grin. Sam had a map spread out on the hood of the Impala, brow creased as he studied it, and fingers tapping out a rhythm.

Glancing down at the screen, he saw he had one message and he didn’t recognize the number. He hoped it was their dad, but he doubted it. He knew that Sam had called John when he’d been in the hospital after the heart attack, but John hadn’t bothered to call back. It didn’t surprise Dean that their dad hadn’t called back.

With a sigh, Dean pushed back the ache in his chest and opened his voice mail, pressing the phone to his ear. The voice that came over the phone was one he hadn’t heard in two years and he closed his eyes as he listened to the past that had come back to haunt him.

_"Dean it’s Cassie. I…I don’t know why I’m calling. It’s just I don’t know who else to call and…"_

She began to cry and Dean’s jaw tightened.

_"It’s my dad, Dean. He was killed in what the police say was an accident. No one wants to believe what’s really going on. Hell, I’m not sure I know what’s going on. You told me once there were things you had seen. That the things you knew about other people refused to see. I know I hurt you, Dean, but if there’s anything left…anything of what we once had…please help me. Help me make sense of why my father had to die."_

He swallowed hard and a tear welled from the corner of his eye, trailing down his cheek. Everything he’d suppressed was beginning to rise and the pain suddenly seemed as fresh as it had that autumn morning in Athens. He could hear the pain in her voice and it twisted him up inside.

_"Anyway…my number is 573-555-6868. I’ll understand if you don’t want to call. I’m sorry, Dean."_

Wiping away the tears on his face, Dean took a deep breath through his nose and dialed information. He waited as the phone rang and an operator’s voice came over the line.

_"Information what city?"_

"I have the number of a friend…Cassie Robinson. The number is 573-555-6868. Is it possible you could tell me what city that is?"

_"One moment, sir."_

Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat as he waited. He was pretty damn sure that he knew where she was, but he wanted to verify it. Sam would be pissed, but he’d get over it. After all, it was his fucking car and he knew Cassie wouldn’t have called unless she really needed their help.

_"Sir?"_

"Yeah, I’m still here."

_"That number is located in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, sir."_

"Thank you." He shut off the phone and turned back to where Sam was babbling something about Pennsylvania and he grinned. "We’re not going to Pennsylvania." Dean yelled as he headed for the driver’s side door.

As he opened the door, he took another breath and he closed his eyes seeing the image of Cassie in his mind nothing mattered right now, but getting to Cape. He hated to admit it to himself, but once you lost your heart to someone, it was like an endless cry that echoed for years to come.

Hang on Cassie, Dean thought, I’m coming.

~Finis~


End file.
